


Rose, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:39:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Rose, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Rose by Amirin

03 October 1998  
These characters and their environs on the X-Files belong to 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement is intended. This is just for fun, no money is being made from this. 

* * *

'The Rose' by Amirin  
<>

I've heard you can always find old roses in a cemetery. It's true. Tangled, overgrown, hardy. But, there. Always. Guarding the dead.

I tend the one I have that reminds me of you. Sweet-scented, intoxicating, spicy. Lots of thorns. A survivor. Winters that have slaughtered everything else cannot touch it. 

Summers, hot and humid, blistering and heavy-aired. The rose ignores them. The heat is endured, the rain, welcomed. 

It stays with me and will remain mine. Forever. It craves my touch, as you used to. My own hand will not hurt it and its thorns on the other do not hurt me. We both understand pruning, the rose and I.

The flowers are wondrous and appear sporadically for months. I find myself looking forward to them, each, a joyful surprise and celebration of life. Of living.

It feeds on that which it needs, that which sustains it, makes it thrive. The soil around it is teeming with lower lifeforms, rich and dark. Dark as your hair . . .

Moss grows in a carpet beneath it. The moss, so like your eyes . . . Rich, vibrant green in sunlight, murky in shadow. My shadow. I take care to keep behind the sun. I could no more withhold light from the moss and the rose than I could from you. But, you know this. I explained it to you. I know you heard me. And understood. How I had to keep you safe. And with me. I know you understood.

*They* do not understand. I've kept in touch enough to know. They still look for you, not even remotely comprehending how you could have disappeared, escaped from their clutches as they clawed, grasping, for you. Their clutches will remain empty. I will protect you as long as I can, shield you from them. I don't want their shadows touching you, either.

Your friends are more insistent than your enemies. Scully and Skinner. Skinner, especially persistent. He's gotten close a couple of times, but has never found this place. Nor will he. I don't want him here. I don't want him to be anywhere near you. You belong with me. I won't share you. And I have a duty to keep you safe. They would never believe I'm safe, for you. That I alone take care of you. 

Yes, they know you were with me, that night. But, they haven't found you. Nor will they. Only I know where you are. 

And the rose.

***********************

end


End file.
